A tune called "Watton Town's End" was mentioned in 1662. It appeared for the first time in the third edition of Henry Playford's "English Dancing Master," which suggests it was either recent or recently popular.

The extant broadsides of the following are later, dated to 1685, but as it's the only song titled "Watton Town's End," it seems likely to have been published after 1660 (not 1610 or 1612 as is sometimes said). Of course, the song might have been suggested by the title of the tune - as the broadside suggests.

A "frigate" in the seventeenth century was any sort of armed warship. As a synonym for "streetwalker" or "woman" it survived into later songs, as will be seen.

This is the earliest song of the group to involve naval metaphors and venereal disease, as in the contemporaneous prose passage from Richard Head (1665).

"Effigies" (singular) meant a portrait or likeness. The broadside features a picture of a gentleman, but he looks quite healthy. The use of the latinate word suggests an educated audience for the song.

“Watton” is in Norfolk, but Watton-at-Stone and Harpenden are just north of London, about six miles apart, .

All spelling errors are in the original:

Watten towns-end, Or, A Nosegay of Pleasure which grew in the garden of Venus tune is Watten towns end, or lame leg next the wall.                                

As I came up to Arpendeen and straight to Watten Town
And there I met a prety wench, that look’d like Lay me down.
At Watten Towns-end, at Watten Towns end,
At every Door there stands a Whore, at Watten Towns end.

The Frigat's Name was Thunder-Bolt, her Sailes were all of Silk;
Her Tacklen was of Silver twist, her colour like the Milk.
At Watten Towns end, &c.

Her Planks were all of Ivory, her Bottom beaten-Gold:
Her Deck was Alabaster pure, she looked brisk and bold.
At Watten Towns end, at Watten Towns end,
At every Door there stands a Whore, at Watten Towns end.

HEr Head was guilded o're and o're, her Wanton Flag did flye:
And I was mad to be on Board, so much a Fool was I,
At Watten towns end, at Watten towns end,
At every Door there stands a Whore, at Watten towns end.

She seem'd a stately Pleasure-Boat, with tempting good attire:
But little knew that (under Deck) her Gun-Room was in Fire.
At Watten towns end.

I lodg'd with her, I laid her down, I slept with her all night:
I supp'd upon a Coney-Fatt, whose Gravey was delight
At Watten Towns end, &c.

She gave to me a Syrrup sweet, was in her Placket-Box;
But e're three Minutes went about, it proved the French-POX.
At Watten towns end, &c.

This Fire-Ship she did blow me up, as my Effigies shows,
And all may read upon my Face the loss of Teeth and Nose,
At Watten towns end, &c.

Now as I walk along the streets, they gaze upon my face,
And every one that looks at me, salutes me with disgrace
At Watten towns end, &c.

By me beware then Gentlemen, From King to Country Clown,
And when you see a pretty Wench, Remember Lay me down.
At Watten towns end, at Watten towns end,
At every door, there stands a Whore, at Watten towns end.

                     FINIS

Printed by P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in Pye-Corner.